


Briding Her Time in Wait

by orphan_account



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Culture Shock, F/M, Prompt Fic, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wedding date was set. Winry and Ling had screamed at one another for months during the preparation out of a mutual need for their childhood friend and half-sister to have the most incredible wedding in the history of either Amestris <em>or</em> Xing, and as a result the wedding canopy suffered from a unique blend of western and eastern traditions that left guests from both sides of the desert confused and requesting refills on drinks that didn’t exist. Still, the two wedding planners manipulated the day into running smoothly, Ling pulling his Emperor card when necessary, Winry pulling her, well, <em>Winry</em> card when necessary, while Ed and Lan Fan stood awkwardly around the food table making small talk that mostly consisted of complaints about automail. By the time the golden groom was ushered through a beautification process that left him requiring an escort to avoid the various women—and men—attempting to seduce him at the last minute, the guests were settled and the wedding was ready to <em>roll</em>.</p><p>Except no one knew where the hell the bride had gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Briding Her Time in Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompts: "Ice Cream Cone Catharsis was so fuckin' cute. More May & Scar, please?" and "Almei + from others' eyes." I'm going to rewrite the second prompt, because it's a good one, but in the meantime have this. YOU GUYS ROCK. Keeping me on my toes and all. Keeping me motivated. You guys are the best, LPers. <3
> 
> For those of you not reading on LP and therefore having no idea about the in-jokes, this is mostly slapping mine and FKC's headcanons into a fanfic. It's meant to be fluffy and not-angsty for once.
> 
> Unbeta'd/unedited/etc. Enjoy at your own risk!

The wedding date was set. Winry and Ling had screamed at one another for months during the preparation out of a mutual need for their childhood friend and half-sister to have the most incredible wedding in the history of either Amestris _or_ Xing, and as a result the wedding canopy suffered from a unique blend of western and eastern traditions that left guests from both sides of the desert confused and requesting refills on drinks that didn’t exist. Still, the two wedding planners manipulated the day into running smoothly, Ling pulling his Emperor card when necessary, Winry pulling her, well, _Winry_ card when necessary, while Ed and Lan Fan stood awkwardly around the food table making small talk that mostly consisted of complaints about automail. By the time the golden groom was ushered through a beautification process that left him requiring an escort to avoid the various women—and men—attempting to seduce him at the last minute, the guests were settled and the wedding was ready to _roll_.

Except:

“Has anyone seen May?” yelled Winry in Ed’s general direction, as though Ed somehow had a map of where all of the wedding guests were in his head, given that he barely knew where _he_ was if not for the friendly spread of food and drink leading him to where he needed to be. Then he realised she was yelling at Lan Fan. The Emperor’s bodyguard—and secret lover, if Ling’s letters meant anything, although considering that the letters were from _Ling_ they were probably full of bullshit and other male bovine faecal matters—arched an eyebrow.

“I believe that the Princess Chang is hiding in her guest room at the moment,” Lan Fan offered. Winry threw her a grateful smile and elbowed Ed in the side as she passed, causing him to stagger into the table and upset a tray of wriggling rubbery white things with too many limbs for his comfort. Lan Fan attempted to catch the plate. It landed in the centre of her automail arm and shattered against the steel. The two stared at the broken shards porcelain littering the floor like zones of impact around a ground zero at Lan Fan’s feet. Bits of fishy-scented slime eightfold skittered under the table. “This is why neither of us will ever plan a wedding. Or anything at all.”

“No shit. Here, lemme help out.” Ed clapped his hands and crouched to touch the pieces. “Dammit.”

Al swept the shards with a touch of blue lightning. Ling popped up out of absolutely nowhere like a demented jack-in-the-box to silently adjust Al’s bowtie, which he could well have done himself. Lan Fan and Ed glanced at one another: _Ling fixing things_? “Brother, have you seen May? Wasn’t the ceremony supposed to start half an hour ago?”

“We’re having technical difficulties!” Ling answered cheerfully. “Don’t worry about it. And May’s fine! She’s just having some trouble with her dress is all.” His voice lowered to a conspirational murmur. Both Elric brothers leant forward; Lan Fan sighed. “Very traditional, you know. Very hard to get into. Or out of.” He winked at Al, whose flushed delicately. “Though ‘course nothing can stop an Elric from what he wants, _ehh_?” Clapping Al on the shoulder, Ling gave an Amestrisian salute with the wrong hand. “You’ll be fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to assure my loyal guards that I’m fine, so as not to cause an international incident!”

“My lord, in the interest of not actively sparking a war between Amestris and Xing because of a _wedding_ ,” Lan Fan hissed, catching Ling’s sleeve in a manner that would have gotten anyone else executed, “perhaps you would allow me to continue my service as your head of guard?”

He shook her off. “Nonsense, nonsense. The only thing you’re guarding tonight is your own happiness.” Her expression could murder the entire Amestrisian military. Ed slinked away _behind_ the alkahetrist. “Here’s an objective: Relax and have fun. If you can get that down, I’ll let you guard me some more!” With that, he vanished, and Lan Fan’s teeth ground together audibly.

 

“Why are you worried?”

She perched on the edge of the roof on the side _away_ from the wedding congregation, facing the unbroken fields and rolling hills of the Resembool countryside. The sun warmed her back. For all of the preparation she’d gone through, for all of the expensive silks and make-up and heavens know what else Ling had gifted her, for all of the three years she’d been courting Al, somehow her courage had dried up in an instant. Wedding. Marriage. Children.

They’d talked children, she and Al. Two, three, four, ten. The cat sanctuary in Xijing. The lazy summers, the warm winters.

And now, May Chang, the girl who had travelled half the country on her own two feet, who had fought toe-to-toe with immortal legions and homunculi and won, who had saved her Clan _and_ a country, could not face her husband-to-be.

“I love him,” she mumbled, “but . . .”

“Is it the thought of marriage?” The scarred man, sitting on her right, rested his hands in his lap. Chirruping contently, Xiao-Mei snuggled into his palms. Although not officially on the list of invitees put together by Winry and Ling, who had nosed into the picture and taken over their wedding shortly after she proposed to Al, he’d received the news of her marriage in her usual monthly letter. And had made it a point to take his first vacation from his work in Ishval to come visit her. She doubted that he had expected to sit with her on a rooftop talking about marriage and anxiety and maybe love.

“Perhaps.” In the luxurious robes she felt small, swallowed up. Always she’d been short, shorter than her brothers and sisters, short like her mother, who had become the Emperor’s wife for her lotus feet and full bust, for her delicate movements and petite frame that left her shortness a blessing. May’s shortness merely added to how loud she would have to be for anyone to hear her. To pay attention. For a princess and for the heir presumptive of Xing, notability could prove fatally necessary. “When I was a girl my mother told me that I would be married to further the Chang Clan. She said that I would have to make myself as beautiful as possible to woo someone wealthy enough or of high enough status in one of the most influential Clans to help my people. If I wanted to help my people, she said.” May examined her hands: Under the softening make-up that made her skin silky smooth and clear as a pool of rainwater, she knew her palms were rough and calloused, her fingertips scarred and worn.

“But you know that that is not why you are marrying the Elric.” She nodded. “Yet the very idea of marriage, you think, has been ruined for you.”

May bowed her head. If she lowered her eyelids, the afternoon sunlight remained splotched reddish-saffron across her vision for several seconds before giving way to darkness. “I miss the days when it just me and you kicking kids’ asses across Amestris. It didn’t matter what we were doing as long as we were pushing the envelope and watching it bend, you know? Every step we took, we were getting closer and closer to . . . me getting the Stone . . . you taking down the State Alchemists and later the homunculi. Politics didn’t matter. International incidents didn’t matter. It was you and me and XIao-Mei against the world. And Dr Marcoh. And the guy with the funny moustache.” She drew her knees up under her chin. The silks rustled, complaining; Ling would kill her for ruining the imported, lavishly sewn and decorated dress, but she would never wear something so frail again anyway. “I miss those days.”

“I do not.” The scarred man tapped her shoulder. Opening her eyes, May cocked her head. His scarlet eyes glinted a faint orange in the golden wash of afternoon sunlight. “In those days I did not know myself; in those days I was consumed by a hatred that nearly ended me. Those were days of war. My people were scattered, lost, and broken, and the homunculi ruled the country as though we were all marionettes on strings.” He paused to lick his lips. May hugged her knees more tightly to her chest. “But I do miss spending time with you, May.”

She smiled. “That’s what I meant, dummy. I like peacetime. I love peacetime. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt, ever again.” Her words wavered. Xiao-Mei poked her head from the scarred man’s palms to nuzzle her leg. “It’s just that . . . I suppose I don’t know _why_ I’m getting married. I don’t need a husband to rule my Clan; we’re even getting married in Amestris _because_ I can’t marry him in Xing, or by law he would become the new head of the Clan. We love each other. There’s no reason that we would have to promise one another our lives when we already have.”

“Then the question becomes: Why _are_ you marrying, then? You proposed to him. You must have had a reason.”

May laughed. “I wanted to see him happy, Mr Scar. When he smiles, I can hear the angels sing.”

The scarred man gently settled a hand on her shoulder; she scooted closer, in towards his warmth. On some level she could sense his discomfort with the topic, with the situation, with the task of comforting a bride hesitating on her wedding day when he had spent the past several years fighting for his people in Ishval. And the fact that he was willing to continue helping her despite his peculiar position as a fish so out of water it had somehow landed on the moon brought a grin to her lips. “But you do not have to marry, you know. No one would be upset at you, least of all Alphonse.”

“I want to marry him because it’ll make both of us happy. Because I love him. And I wanted to show him, even though I can’t marry him in Xing, you know?” She laughed again, this time more genuinely, and hugged him. “Thank you, Mr Scar. You always knew how to make me feel better.”

“You make yourself feel better. I am glad I could be around to watch, though.” He returned the embrace. Warm arms around her shoulders, exceedingly gentle so as not to crush the silk, like a veil of gossamer around her. She transmuted the veil to an aegis of confidence around her melted heart. When Al saw her his mouth would drop open; she saw _him_ she would remember how desperately she had loved that golden boy even before she knew him as Al. “Come on. The sooner I can kiss the groom, the sooner we can split the cake.”

 

Winry pounded the door. The room in question, formerly the one known as Ed and Al’s, had become the  guest room that had in turn become, or had converted itself into, Al and May’s room, much to the embarrassment of Ed living down the hallway. For Ed and Winry’s wedding, Ling had sent them a “cock ring” that secretly turned out to be a disguised firecracker. After an unamused Ed had to spent a night fire-faced as May and Al took turns administering alkahestry arrays, he’d mailed Ling a furious letter explaining his extreme virginity and _how was he supposed to know that cock rings didn’t look like that_ , to which Ling had replied that Winry should’ve known. Winry had simply giggled over the entire event: It was Ed’s fault for wanting to test it by himself prior to unveiling it in the bedroom. But over the past few weeks of listening to Al and May get it on rather loudly and conspicuously a couple metres down the hall, Winry had come to appreciate Ed’s surprising ability to be tactful on occasion. Well, less tactful and more utterly humiliated at any mention of sex, but it worked out the same. Not to mention the time that _she_ had walked in Al and May in the middle of some unspeakable shenanigans that involved straps and chains and the most horrific strap-on she had ever seen.

But at the moment her future sister-in-law was shut up in her room. Doing God-knows-what. Winry slammed the door. “May! Are you okay in there? If there’s something wrong—if there’s anything I could do—if some piece of shit said something—” She knocked, more calmly this time. “Please? _Please_?”

No response.

“How’s my lil sis doing?” Ling butt in. “The guests’re getting antsy, and I think Paninya’s about to break down the kitchen door to get to the cake. Can’t you do anything about her?” Then he followed Winry’s gaze to the closed door, and his timbre dropped to one approaching solemnity. “Is she okay?”

“That’s the issue: She’s just locked herself _up_ in her room, and I honestly don’t know how to get to her like this, and—holy _shit_ Ling!”

He palmed the curved blade, twirling it expertly. “Problem solved.”

“Ling, you can’t just—chop down a _door_ —”

As Ling dug the sword into the wood, he leaned into the weak point splintering the door vertically. The entrance caved in whole. A broken-off length of wood flew by close enough to Ling’s face that for a second Winry thought she had watched one of her best friends be beheaded. Then Ling wiped his cheek, where a thin line of blood marked the wood’s path. The inside, decorated in muted shades of green, blue, red, white, black, and any colours other than the pink and gold of the Chang quarters in Xijing in which Al and May spent some six months of the year, revealed its vacancy. Winry scanned the room. Ling picked up a cushion and examined underneath as though May could fit under a pillow. “She’s not in here,” he observed mildly.

“Thanks, Professor Obvious.” Kneading her lower lip, Winry poked into the closets before falling onto the bed, heavy, like a stone. The mattress crinkled into valleys around her limbs-splayed weight. “I don’t get it. What are we missing here?”

Flopping onto the floor in a manner that somehow landed him in a vaguely comfortable cross-legged position, Ling made a popping noise with his mouth. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found?”

“I mean, _duh_. But—”

“What are you guys doing? The wedding’s about to start!”

Ling whipped around so rapidly he almost broke his ankle; Winry shot up, a cork from champagne bottle. In the doorway stood a goddess of cherry blossoms. Born of molten gold and spun silk. Rich midnight-sky hair up in a traditional headpiece. Diaphanous folds of sunrise hues flowing around her form. Cheeks pink as spring petals, eyes dark and luminous, lips full and amaranth-red. “No one ever told me,” Ling whispered, mouth agape, “that the Heavenly Mother had returned.”

May laughed. By her shoulder stood the scarred Ishvalan. Winry could have sworn a faint smile lingered on his lips. “C’mon. I’m getting married to the love of my life.” Xiao-Mei chirped. “I’d like my wedding planners to attend.”


End file.
